


Reward

by Fire_Bear



Series: FrUK Week 2016 [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Assassination attempts, Curses, Day 4, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Style, FrUK Week 2016, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a king whose life was at risk. A wandering mage made sure he lived but, when he disappeared, the king became determined to find him and repay him for such an act...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reward

**Author's Note:**

> This… isn’t really all that fluffy…
> 
> Also, the ending’s a bit weak but I don’t want to spoil anything so I’ll talk more at the end about my crappy story.
> 
> Also, Wadim = APH Romania. Wadim apparently means “knowing one” so that’s apt.

Once upon a time, there was a king named Francis. His kingdom was the richest in the world as it possessed several sites where gold could be mined. In addition to the gold mines, there were also vast reserves of silver and jewels. The palace was decorated with these riches and the neighbouring royals were faced with these whenever they visited. And so the kingdom and King Francis himself made many enemies. He ignored their threats, believing himself almost invincible with his many guards and loyal subjects.

However, when a hooded man, hunched and twitchy, appeared at the palace for an audience with him, Francis was a little worried. He had plenty of guards to save him if the man decided to attack and his two best friends were always beside him to protect him but the man seemed strange; who knew what he would do. Once he had bowed to the king, Francis said, “What is it you need, good man?” He hoped his concern wouldn't be too obvious.

“I do not want for anything, Your Majesty,” came the deep, hoarse voice from the depths of the hood. “It is not for my sake that I come here. I have come to warn you.” Both Francis's friends reached for their swords, obviously believing the mystery man meant them harm.

“Warn me of what?” the king asked, putting a hand on his friends' arms to placate them. “Do you threaten me?”

“No. But there will be three assassins from three different countries. Each will attempt to kill you. However, if you take suitable precautions-”

“I will not fear these people,” Francis said, looking away from the man, forcing himself to sound confident. He would not let his enemies scare him, he decided. “Leave now. I do not appreciate the way you speak to me.”

After a brief pause, the man said, “Your Majesty.” When Francis next looked, the man was gone and those who had been present looked amazed. The man had disappeared on the spot.

Not sure what to make of the warning, Francis quickly dismissed it and continued life as normal. However, when he sat down to eat that evening and as he reached for his silver goblet, there was movement beside him and, suddenly, the man was there once again. As his guards rushed to his aid, surprised by his sudden appearance and determined to stop the man, Francis fancied he saw something green under the hood and he wondered, briefly, if that would be the last thing he saw. Before anyone could reach him, however, the man knocked away the goblet.

“Do not drink the wine,” he told Francis before disappearing.

Upon investigation, it was discovered that the wine Francis had been about to drink was poisoned.

The next day, believing the threat to be over, Francis went for a ride through the woods that surrounded his capital. As the riding party stopped for a break, the man appeared once again. This time, the guards were more hesitant to approach, wondering if they should. As Francis turned to him he spotted a flash of gold under the hood. Then he noticed the arrow which was suspended in mid-air. It dropped when the man lowered his hand and looked over his shoulder at the king.

“Do not stay in these woods,” he told Francis before disappearing.

Upon investigation, it was discovered that the woods were teeming with mercenaries hired to kill the king. All of them were captured or killed by the guards who forbade Francis from leaving the castle for fear of the third attempt.

On the next night, Francis retired to bed, exhausted from being on the alert for an attack all day. He lay on his soft mattress and was instantly asleep. When the moon had risen enough to shine into his room, he was awoken with a hand clamped to his mouth. Alarmed, he struggled until he realised that he was looking at the hooded man. When he checked the room, he found another man at the end of his bed, bound and gagged and wild-eyed.

“Do not sleep in this room,” the hooded man told Francis before disappearing.

Upon his release, the king arranged to sleep in another room for the night. It was discovered that several assassins had been hired and they all attacked the king's room. All of them were captured or killed as well.

Afterwards, King Francis met with the kings who had arranged for these attacks and a tremulous peace was secured. And so he could continue to live as before. However, King Francis was not completely selfish nor did he enjoy being in someone's debt. So he sent for word on a wandering magic man, for one hooded and able to appear and disappear at will.

Results were quick for the people all knew him as the Wandering Mage, a man who went from town to town, kingdom to kingdom, to help those in need with his magic and knowledge of healing. Many a person had been saved from illness and injury. Francis was impressed by the man. However, there was no way to know how to meet him. At least, he knew of none till a middle-aged woman appeared, claiming to know where he could be found.

“At certain times of the year,” she told the king, “he can be found in a cottage in the middle of the woods near here. It is usually during the winter months that he is there and does not venture forth. If you wait till then you will definitely find him there. Everyone knows to go there if they need his assistance during the winter, Your Majesty.”

So King Francis waited months before venturing out to the woods. He took with him an entourage which consisted of several guards, his advisers, some nobles who were curious about the Mage and servants who carried a variety of chests. Each of the chests held different items: gold, silver, bronze, jewels, silk, exotic plants. Francis hoped that one of these would be acceptable for a reward.

When they reached the place his scouts said was their destination, the king stopped the crowd. He had decided to speak to the Mage first so he would continue onto the clearing by himself. The guards protested but they eventually relented when the king pointed out that the Mage would protect him if needs be.

Emerging from the trees, Francis's first thought was that he hadn't expected the cottage to be intact. Since it was abandoned for most of the year, he had expected it to be almost derelict. However, it was intact, painted a bright white. Though ivy crept up one corner, the stonework seemed to be intact as were the windows, gleaming in the sunlight which streamed through the trees. But the most impressive thing was the huge garden, full of a variety of bright and colourful flowers. Roses and tulips and hydrangeas and forget-me-nots and orchids and irises – there was such a variety that Francis sat frozen on his horse, trying to comprehend. Not only that but the garden seemed much larger than the clearing appeared to be.

As he tried to wrap his mind around this impossibility, Francis noticed movement and looked towards it. There he found a golden head bent over one of the rose bushes, their blue petals bright against the leaves. Quietly, he dismounted and approached, watching the bush shake as the person worked. Suddenly, the person straightened, wiping at his brow with the back of his wrist. Then he noticed Francis and blinked in surprise. The king surveyed him as he made his way to the bush: he had messy hair and bright eyes, a shining green which Francis felt was more striking than the jewels he had brought with him. It was also very familiar: he knew instantly where he had seen that colour before.

“Hello there,” said the Mage. “What is the king doing out here? Are you lost?”

Francis frowned at the Mage, thinking that, surely, the Mage should know why he was there. “Good Mage, I have heard many a tale of your kindness and-”

“It is hardly kindness,” said the Mage with a snort of amusement. “People turn up here and ask for my help. I do so to get rid of them so I can continue my solitary existence in peace.”

“And what of the time you saved my life? Three times, in fact, you did so. I have come to show my gratitude.”

The Mage stared at the king for some time before laughing loudly. “What _are_ you talking about? I have done no such thing. I do not leave here.”

Taken aback, the king watched as the man turned back to his roses, tending to them once more. “It was definitely you,” Francis told him. “And I have been told several times over that you wander the world for the rest of the year.”

“You must be mistaken. Perhaps they are thinking of another mage.”

“Perhaps,” the king agreed and reluctantly left, wondering at what had just happened. When he returned to his entourage he told them that someone must have been mistaken and that they would have to seek out another magic-user. Hopefully, the person they found would be the one they were looking for; if not, maybe they could point them in the right direction.

Weeks passed as they searched. People kept pointing them back to that lonely cottage. Months passed and word of a different magic-user passing through the kingdom reached them. Before he could leave, Francis's entourage raced to intercept him. At a town on their border, they found the brown-haired man. He grinned at them when Francis entered the local tavern and made his way straight to the stranger.

“I know why you are here, King Francis,” said the man as he gestured for the king to sit. Ignoring the fact that he hadn't risen in Francis's presence as was the norm, he obediently sat across from the stranger. “You have come about the Wandering Mage.”

“Yes,” replied Francis, surprised. “How did you know?”

“I have heard of your searching,” the man said. “And I know Arthur.”

“Arthur? That is his name?” the king asked, excitedly, feeling he was getting close to his goal.

“Yes. He is a friend of mine. Once, a witch asked him, someone more powerful than she, to save her sickly son.” The man gestured at the fireplace and smoke weaved its way across the room to their table. With another wave of his hand, the smoke resolved itself into the silhouettes of a woman holding a baby and a messy-haired man. “However, Arthur arrived too late to help and the child died. The witch was furious and, since her speciality was curses...” In the smoke, the woman angrily gestured at the man who doubled over, clutching at his face. “She made him so ugly that those who looked upon him would die of fright. When he begged her to remove it, she relented: though she could not remove the curse, she placed another spell on him so that it would lift in the winter. But the grief and torment that Arthur has to endure when he travels” - the woman in the smoke disappeared and the man was granted a hood as he hunched in on himself - “is too much for him. So a kindly friend placed another spell on him, one where he would believe himself confined to his home so he could live in peace when he was his normal self.” Again, the smoke changed, this time to the messy-haired man standing by a rose bush. Then the stranger waved his hand through the smoke to clear it away.

“He does not remember saving me?” Francis asked.

“No. Nor how he appears to others during that time. The only reason he leaves his home during the rest of the year is because of the way to remove the curse.”

“How?” The king leaned forwards, eager to hear, eager to help the mage and repay him for his life.

“Someone must look upon his visage and not die.”

Francis was aghast. “Is that the only way?”

“Yes,” said the man, rising from his place. He passed the king and paused to pat him on the shoulder. “I am sure that your determination will serve you well, Your Majesty.” And, with that, he was gone.

Afterwards, as he returned to his palace, Francis pondered on the stranger's words. Could he really remove the curse? Would he be able to release such a kind soul from his torment? He realised that there was only one thing he could do. Once winter was over, he sent word to the Wandering Mage, hoping he would come to him.

Indeed, the hunched figure returned to the palace, bowing deeply to hide his face from the king, the only one present in the throne room. “What is it that you need from me?” the mage asked.

“I wish to thank you for saving my life,” the king told him.

Arthur shook his head. “I have no need for gold or silver, silks or exotic plants.”

“No, I did not think so,” Francis agreed. “I wish to help you.”

Visibly freezing, Arthur raised his head slightly, his hood still concealing his face. “Help...? Have you spoken with Wadim?”

“I may have,” Francis admitted. “I know about your curse and I wish to lift it.”

“No,” was the immediate answer, firm and inviting no argument.

Yet Francis would not take that as an answer and he rose from his throne. “Then, if you will not let me help you, I must reward you in another way,” he lied, descending the steps to his throne to close the distance between them.

“I have no need for that,” said Arthur, shifting nervously.

Francis smiled at him as he approached. When he got too close, the mage began to step away. Fearful that he would disappear again, the king lunged and caught Arthur's arm. With his free hand, Francis quickly pulled down the hood.

As expected, Arthur did not look as he did in the garden. There were vivid welts and lesions across his whole face. Horns grew from the sides of his head in spirals, pointed and cruel. Scales, some peeling and some merged with his skin, could be seen over the bridge of his nose and over his jaw. His eyebrows were far thicker than they had been in the garden and almost covered his eyes. Francis recoiled from the vision, frightened.

Helplessly, his expression one of dismay, Arthur reached for him. Trying to jerk away from him, Francis felt himself falling backwards, his breath stolen and his heart stilled from the shock. Arthur's hands grabbed his arms just in time and Francis stared up at him, struggling to take a breath.

Then he saw the mage's eyes. Despite the rest of his appearance, they were beautiful and just as striking as before. Francis stared at them, wondering how something so beautiful could be within such an ugly visage. With a shaky breath, Francis stepped away, trying to give himself room. Taking deep breaths, he clutched at his chest, relieved to feel his heart beating again. When he felt himself calm, he looked up at Arthur to find that he had doubled over, clutching at his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Y-You are still alive...” said Arthur, slowly, sounding amazed.

“Indeed I am. Now, are you all right?”

Hesitantly, reluctantly, Arthur straightened, a hand covering his face. Then he lowered it and revealed the features Francis remembered from the garden. Delighted, Francis hurried forward. “It worked!” he cried.

“But... how?” asked Arthur, seeming confused.

The king ignored him and drew him into a hug. “I am relieved,” he told Arthur, “that I was able to repay you. I am truly thankful for your actions.”

As Francis drew back, Arthur ducked his head. “You... You are the one who truly saved me. I did very little to save you, merely warned you.”

Francis laughed. “You are being humble. I would not be alive if it were not for you.”

Arthur smiled shyly. “I suppose I did... But how did you save me?”

Gently, Francis took Arthur's face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks. “Your eyes. I remembered them from your garden. Despite your appearance, they were just as beautiful as they were then.”

Embarrassed, the mage ducked his head but did not pull away. “I see...”

“For your services to our kingdom,” Francis continued, still elated from his success, “I wish to grant you a room in this palace. You may come and go as you please and you need not hesitate to approach me with any requests. Especially if you require money. I am in your debt and I wish to help you in your work.”

Eyes wide, Arthur shook his head. “You... It sounds more like I am in _your_ debt.”

“Please,” Francis said, taking Arthur's hands. “I have thought of you for months and I do not wish for you to leave just yet.”

It took a few moments for Arthur to think on his offer, staring between their hands and the king's gaze. “Very well. I shall stay here, for now.”

And so Francis declared a celebration, a feast held in Arthur's honour. Though most of the guests were confused as to the reason, they were curious as to who the handsome young mage was. Unused to the attention, Arthur stuck to Francis's side and mumbled his responses. Francis found that both amusing and endearing. He hoped the mage would feel comfortable enough to live in the palace permanently.

The mage did indeed stay put and was even allowed to tend to the gardens. In fact, Arthur was so happy with the arrangements that he never returned to the cottage, always going back to the palace after any of his journeys. Francis, of course, was overjoyed at this and showered Arthur with gifts, much to the mage's embarrassment.

And, it was later said, both the king and the mage lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> See, I thought of the fairy tale sort of story from the saving life and gold/reward thing. But... didn’t really have an ending. But I did have the whole curse thing before I started writing. It was basically meant to be Arthur refusing the reward but the reward becomes saving him from the curse. And that’s the end of the story. They both live happily ever after.
> 
> But I really struggled with where to put that last sentence. Like, how much ‘after the curse had been lifted’ should I put... So that’s why this is so... Urgh. But I give up cause I also didn’t want them to have fallen in love with each other right when the curse lifted. That seemed a bit unrealistic...
> 
> I hope this is okay for everyone... =/


End file.
